Nate Berlin
by yasminscorner
Summary: Nate Berlin, with both his parents dead, is forced to find a way to support himself & his younger sister, Genevieve, during The Great Depression. What happens, though, when his younger sister falls severely ill leaving him between a rock and a hard place


I just one to point out one thing before this story goes underway. Although it's listed as 'fanfiction', it's not. This is an entirely made up story that I had to write for my English class. At any rate, I hope you enjoy it :)

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><p><em>Nate Berlin<em>

It was a grey evening in Chicago, Illinois 1931. By now, the sun had no doubt retired behind the storm clouds. Very slowly, as the evening crept on, the noise surrounding the many stores decreased as did the number of people on the streets. Everything had seemed to settle quickly by 5:30pm; the atmosphere was eerie, but everything seemed undisturbed. Well, everything except a disturbance on 1432 Light Lane at Mr. Kin's Bakery.

"Out," bellowed an elderly man of about 65 chasing a much younger, much more handsome man out of the store with a broom. This young man was Nate Berlin. He was a tall, slim, brown-haired 16-year-old, who had made the mistake of thinking he could stow a piece of freshly baked bread in his pocket without going unnoticed. "And don't you ever think about coming back," the elderly man shouted once more as he stood at the entrance of his small, quaint bakery watching Nate jog down the cobblestone streets.

Nate stopped jogging minutes after leaving the premises of the Mr. Kin's Bakery. Removing his Newsboy cap, he slid his fingers through his thick, brown hair as he trudged on, disappointed in himself for another unsuccessful attempt at bringing food home. Nate was a drop out though it was not by choice. With his parents dying when he was merely 13 years old and leaving absolutely nothing behind, he hadn't had any funds to continue school. He instead turned his focus to supporting himself, and the one thing that mattered more than anything else in the world to him - his five-year-old sister, Genevieve.

Although they hadn't anywhere to live such as house or even a small room, Nate made sure that Genevieve had a place to sleep. "Nate! Nate," a high-pitched infant voice shouted as Nate neared the St. Lucy's Church's gates. He lowered himself to his knees as the five-year-old little girl dressed in a frilly white dress (now stained with dirt) ran towards her older brother wrapping her little arms around his neck and embracing him tightly.

Nate took hold of one of her little hands as he stood up towering over her. Away from the church, Nate and Genevieve walked to the park where they'd usually sleep against the grand oak tree; Nate would usually sit upright against the tree while Genevieve rested soundlessly in his lap. This night hadn't been any different. With Genevieve asleep on his lap, Nate's mind began to wonder. He thought of the first time he'd heard about his parents' deaths. Tears immediately stung his eyes as he recalled the tragic car accident that'd ended his parents' lives almost immediately. It was three years ago, when Genevieve had only just been born.

Nate had walked home from school late that day only to discover that his parents hadn't arrived yet. "Perhaps they'd be back in the morning," Nate thought as he put both himself and Genevieve to bed; however, all was not as Nate had assumed the next morning. Nate awoke leaving Genevieve at home as he wandered out into the streets. Men and women coming up to him, one by one sympathizing with him over a death he, himself, hadn't been informed about.

Nate could remember the numb feeling he'd felt as he ran to the nearby church. Racing up the steps of this place he'd used as a sanctuary for now, he collapsed onto his knees. From thenceforth he couldn't remember the minor details between the exchange of him and Sister Juliet. All he picked up, however, was that both his parents had been intoxicated; this was a fact he refused to believe even today.

Nate's eyes opened suddenly as his chest heaved due to the intense and vivid memory. He sighed as he watched the sun rise lazily over the horizon. It wasn't long before he'd continued with his regular routine of leaving Genevieve in the care of the nuns while he would search for a job. Times were so bad, in fact, that whenever Nate would ask for a position he was either speciously told that the spot had been filled or rebuffed due to his age. In either case, he'd concluded the same. Why try anymore? He hadn't much experience unless you count the day and a half job as a Newsboy that he'd had. Who could hire him now?

He wandered from street corner to street corner offering to sweep drains or the outside of whatever shop he'd stumble upon. He was turned down all the same, however. "I suppose a man whose trousers had miscoloured patches in them, and whose shirt had been over used many a time sweeping the slightest cobblestone in front of a shop was bad for business," Nate deduced as he trudged on. As 5:00pm rolled around, Nate returned to the church defeated and disappointed once again.

Climbing the church steps, he was shocked not to see Genevieve run in his direction. In fact, he couldn't see Genevieve anywhere. He briskly walked up a flight of stairs to the Sisters' quarters where he knocked on the door. Sister Juliet opened the door with a look of worry cast upon her face. "Oh, dear, come quickly," she said worriedly as she led Nate to a couch where Genevieve had been resting on. Genevieve's usual rosy cheeks now looked a very nasty pale as did her lips.

Nate immediately fell onto his knees taking up his little sister's hand. "She's not," he began with a worried sound deep within his voice.

"Oh, no - no, of course not," Sister Juliet finished. "She - she is sick, though," she spoke once more as Nate rubbed his thumb against the back of Genevieve's hand. His heart sank lower and lower thinking about the possibility of his sister dying.

"What is she sick with," Nate asked with his voice of a dull kind.

"The doctors haven't any idea," Sister Juliet responded. Nate closed his eyes forcing back any tears that no doubt had filled his tear cavity.

"What - What has she been doing," Nate's voice resonated with a crack this time.

"I assume you mean how she's been behaving," Sister Juliet stated in a rather interrogative fashion. Nate solely nodded keeping his eyes shut. "Well, her forehead is rather warm - more than lukewarm actually. She coughs, and she claims that her throat feels as if it was on fire. She sneezes constantly, and her coughing seems to worsen as she does," Sister finally concluded. Nate's teeth sank themselves onto his bottom lip as he re-opened his eyes.

He picked Genevieve up in his arms as he courteously nodded at Sister Juliet before making his way to the park. With the sun having set about an hour ago, the night sky was opaque. Nate laid Genevieve on the ground as tears rushed down his cheeks. He'd known that inevitably Genevieve would depart this life, and he'd felt guilty that in her 5 years of her life she'd known nothing but poverty. He knelt beside his sick, almost moribund sister gnawing on his lip and contemplating his next course of action.

His hands impulsively grabbed the napkin that'd been drifting through the gentle breeze as well as a pen that'd rolled back and forth on the cobblestone, and he wrote:

"Dear Whomever Shall Receive This,

This is my sister - Genevieve. She's only five, and needs a home that I will never be able to give her. She hasn't had a mother or father as far as she can remember, and I pray that you have mercy on this innocent being. Allow her to share in your home, and treat her as your own.

Sincerely,

Nate

PS: I implore that you never show her this. She doesn't need to remember me if she has you."

Nate could feel his throat knot as he folded the napkin stapling it to the bow of her dress with the pen. He leaned forward kissing his pale sister for the last time. Nate slipped off his coat and shoes using them as a pillow and blanket for her. Slowly, Nate rose and strode into the horizon hoping to start over. Would he ever come back? He didn't know. Where would he go? He hadn't decided that either.

He had realized one thing though - sometimes sacrifices, as excruciating as they may be, must be made to better not only one's self, but those whom we love.


End file.
